The Dark Below
by Doc Hammer
Summary: After returning to Arcadia Bay, Steph Gingrich and her life partner, Beth Marsh, begin to experience strange events that lead up to the discovery of a popular missing girl.


THE DARK BELOW-THE DAWN ABOVE

11-20-13

"I'm here!"

Stephanie Gingrich-Marsh sat up, tingling as if a bolt of lightning surged through her entire body. She knew it wasn't close to dawn, the darkness in the room was total but for the glowing numbers on the digital clock next to her side of the bed that read—ten thirty. "Did you say something?" she spoke softly at the figure huddled beneath the covers next to her. The sound of mumbling beneath the blankets was faint and clearly caused by a sleeping brain. Steph shrugged and laid back against the pillows.

"Help!"

Her eyes were almost closed when she heard the voice again. It was clearer this time, and definitely came from her partner beneath the blankets. She reached over and gently pulled the covers down, revealing the woman's face, and gasped. "Beth! What's wrong?" she said, shaking her wife's shoulder. "Are your legs cramping again?"

Bethany Marsh had been a physically active girl all her life. She loved sports and never failed to earn a spot on any of the girls' teams that she tried out for. By the time she reached thirteen years of age and stood five feet and nine inches it seemed clear she was destined to apply her physique toward a career in either volleyball or basketball. She concentrated on volleyball, since it allowed the team to play outdoors; she was also fond of the beach, and bikinis. As she lay motionless beneath the blankets, her full height of six feet two inches was purely a technicality now. The accident last year ended what could have been a promising career, confining her to a wheel chair for the rest of her life.

The loss of the use of her legs had not changed Steph's devotion to her. Their love for each other had been confirmed and set from the moment their eyes met. What had begun as a chance encounter in a game store, immediately exploded into a relationship that they could not hide for the next two years. Though Steph's family and friends had long embraced her life choices, the Marsh family was another matter. Their disapproval and ultimate banishment of Beth from the family only made her commitment to Steph stronger. It was also a relief, of sorts, a kind of letting go from them that gave her the strength to propose to Steph, allowing them to move out of Arcadia Bay, and eventually, to take the final step and make the drive to San Francisco where they legally bound themselves to each other.

"It's me!"

She could barely make out Beth's face, but could see that her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. "It's okay, I'm here," she whispered, and reached over, gently brushing Beth's bangs.

The trip back from San Francisco had been relaxing as Beth drove their 1963 convertible Thunder-bird; her long legs crammed into the small driver's space as her knees stuck up, bumping the steering wheel. Steph sat beside her, excited and talking about her friend Mike North and their plans to arrange a game convention in Arcadia Bay. Beth had not been watching the speed gauge when she lost control of the car on a sharp curve; it took less than a minute for it and them to go over the siderail and down the hill. Steph was thrown clear when her seat belt failed and came loose, and slammed against the embankment. Beth's belt had done its job, and kept her in the car until it reached the bottom of the ravine. When Steph awoke she saw paramedics and fire fighters around the vehicle that had come to rest below against a huge boulder. Someone was talking to her, shining a light in her eyes, then she screamed.

"Please, come…"

Steph could see Beth's lips moving slightly, but the voice sounded nothing like her. While the tone was familiar, it just, wasn't, Beth's. She leaned over and kissed Beth's forehead. "Beth? You awake?"

"I'm not…Beth."

Steph's eyes popped wider as the voice issued from her partner's lips. It wasn't Beth's at all. In fact, it sounded almost like… But that wasn't possible! "Who…?"

Returning to Arcadia Bay wasn't an easy choice, but Steph knew she could count on her family if she needed to. And for the two of them, herself just a year out of high school, and Beth in a wheel chair, it seemed the smart thing to do. While she knew little of what had gone on during their time away, she had kept in touch with Mike North, and wasn't surprised by much of what he had reported to her. The exception being Rachel Amber's disappearance; that was unsettling to Steph, given that Rachel didn't seem like the kind of girl to go missing. She would learn later that there was more to it; some-thing she would never have believed possible. Rachel?

Steph blinked, and her heart began to pound, gaining speed as the strange yet familiar quality of Beth's sleep-talking finally registered in her mind. Rachel? She sounds so much like…

"Stop! Get away!"

A flash of lightning lit the room through the window followed quickly by a roar of thunder. Steph's body tensed, her hands clenching as they shook slightly. "Gees!" she blurted, then turned her eyes back to Beth; the woman seemed more aware, for lack of a better term, and her face relaxed. "Beth?

Are you awake? You were talking in—"

"I was dreaming," Beth nodded. "Steph, I was some place, and couldn't get out. I think I was under- ground, like, in a cellar or something. There was a guy, he looked very young. I don't know…I think I might know him. Then my eyes burned and itched, like from smoke. But he said everything was fine, and that he would take care of me. I…"

Steph snuggled close and put her arm around Beth's shoulder. "It's okay. It was just a dream."

The morning sun streamed into the den of their tiny beach cottage warming Steph's feet as she stood at the stove fixing her and Beth's breakfast. They had managed to sleep the remainder of the night undisturbed and awoke midmorning at around nine a.m. Their daily ritual of getting Beth out of bed, cleaned, dressed and into her wheel chair had become routinely efficient over time and by ten o'clock Steph was pouring batter onto the hot plate; they didn't have pan cakes often, but after the odd night they had shared, she knew it would pick up their spirits. She was right, as the smell filled the room and she could see Beth's eyes widen with anticipation. She decided to add fried bacon to their meal and it wasn't until she sat down beside Beth and the two were munching down food that Steph brought up the subject of her concern.

"Last night was…" She looked over at Beth, whose cheeks were puffed out with her mouth full of pan cakes, and grinned. "I don't think a tsunami could ruin your appetite." All her wife could manage was a primal sound of satisfaction in the form of, _Mmmmmm_. "I don't know," Steph continued. "Maybe I'm more upset than I realized. After that session yesterday with your therapist, and then almost running into your mother later at Food King…"

Beth swallowed. "Maybe. But, that doesn't explain my dream."

"Well, no," Steph shrugged. "Some think, dreams are just dreams. But, I know I'm not crazy; you were talking in your sleep, and it didn't sound like you."

"Well, I don't remember talking in my sleep. But if I did, how could I sound like someone else? And you think I sounded like—Rachel Amber? How could I…? Why? I hardly knew her. And didn't Mikey say she's been missing since April? Or, she left Arcadia Bay, anyway…"

Steph frowned. She had not seen or spoken to Rachel in over a year, but when she talked to Mikey about it, something in his voice bothered her. "I know. I just wish I had kept in touch with her—and everyone," she added, thinking of Chloe Price. She was angry that they did not attend the girl's funeral, but they had only recently returned to Arcadia Bay, and Beth's condition required treatments that, once set, could not be rescheduled or delayed. She had to settle, instead, on holding her own private memorial service for the blue haired girl that she had grown fond of during their sophomore year at Blackwell Academy. Was that really just a month ago? Steph thought. Time is racing by so fast! In another week we'll be doing the _turkey_ -thing! At least my mom isn't asking me to help with that!

Their return to Arcadia Bay had not been easy. Almost all of the physical aspect of packing and moving fell upon her, and then there was Beth's needs—finding a therapist, pharmacy, and a wheel chair friendly apartment. But the greater anxiety, the one they didn't speak of, had more to do with Beth's family, and what might happen should they actually encounter them.

Steph was a junior at Blackwell Academy when she and Beth met. She always wondered why Beth, a senior and star female-jock, would enter a store that specialized in role playing games; she remembered how immediately she and the tall girl's eyes had met and seemed to lock onto one another. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter anyway; the feelings they recognized for each other had been firmly set, and were undeniable, from that moment.

Over the following year the two of them were inseparable. Word had spread quickly through the student body of Blackwell with everyone either stunned or in total understanding; shock because of Beth's family, her upbringing, and her father being a clergyman. Those that knew Steph, understood. But the turmoil within the Marsh family was unsolvable. Her mother and aunt openly disowned her, and made living at home for her impossible. When she moved out before graduation all evidence of her was removed from the home and all family records; all contact, with the exception of a rare phone call from her father, was ended. It was as if she had never been part of the family. Steph got her through the pain of that time. Her unconditional love for the tall, lanky girl poured into Beth's heart and soul, filling her with joy and passion, replacing the dismay she had suffered.

Steph wished she could have finished her schooling at Blackwell, but Beth's need to find peace required her more and, at the end of her junior year, they had packed up and departed Arcadia Bay. They settled in Sisters, a small tourist community some miles inland and south east of Salem along High-way 20. They supported themselves as most do in such places, working in shops during tourist season; but they spent the bulk of their time as young lovers do—strolling the wilderness holding hands, dining in romantic eateries, and exchanging bodily passions in front of crackling fires on cold nights. All that seemed so long ago as Steph sat gazing at her wife. But, it wasn't. Not really.

A faint knock on the door shifted their attention as Steph rose and walked to the entry. Ignoring that she was wearing only a sheer tank-top and short-shorts she opened the door. No one was there, but an envelope had been left on the door mat, and Steph picked it up, examined it briefly, then shut the door and returned to the table where Beth continued shoving pan cakes into her mouth.

"What's that?" Beth managed to inquire through the mouthful of food.

"Don't know, but it's from Joyce Madsen."

"Joyce, Madsen. That's, Chloe's mom, right?"

Steph nodded affirmatively as she opened the envelope. Inside was a folded sheet of paper that she felt was wrapped around something firmer. As she unfolded the paper a small photo started to fall out until she quickly grabbed it. Steph gasped, and stared at the picture.

"What's wrong?" Beth stopped eating.

"It's… Chloe and Rachel. Why would Joyce send me this?"

"Why don't you read the letter? That might explain it."

"Right, duh. Joyce says she found this going through Chloe's things, along with a journal. She gave the original to Max Caulfield, but thought I might want a copy. So, she printed it for me."

"You never told me that you and Chloe were all that buddy-buddy…before we met."

Steph's body tensed, her eyes darting back and forth between the photo and Beth. She knew her wife could sense the change in her posture, and swallowed. "We weren't. But…"

"But, what?" Beth's eyes narrowed slightly.

"We… kind of…hooked up—"

"You what!?" Beth's eyes flared open.

"Once! Just once. It never—"

"And you're just now telling me this? Oh, by all means, go on."

Steph sat back down, slouching slightly as she let the photo and letter fall onto the table. "It was before we met. The summer, when that psycho—Damon Merrick—attacked Drew North over drug money and then stabbed Rachel, the next day. It was very…confusing. Very complicated."

"I remember all that happening. It was quite a shock to hear. Just give me the abbreviated version."

Steph sighed. "Rachel was in the hospital and Chloe was so upset. She and I often saw each other when she visited Rachel and me and Mikey saw Drew."

"Yes? And, so you just, hooked up?"

"It was my fault. I should have had more sense. One night, Chloe was just, unraveling so bad and we bumped into each other on the way out. I suggested we go get _wasted_ and she was all for that. So, we did. She took me to a little shack out at the junkyard—American Rust—where she knew we could get plastered and no one would bother us. Chloe had fixed it up, for her and Rachel I think."

"At _their_ spot? Oh, god, Steph!"

"I know! It was dumb of me. But, we got really juiced up and…and Chloe was so sad and hurting, I felt so bad for her."

"So, you just _did_ it? Had your way with her!?"

"Geez, Beth, you make it sound so awful! No. I just, wanted to comfort her. She was hurting so much and I… I couldn't really think straight and…we just…" Steph waited for her to respond, but the silence hanging in the air between them stretched into minutes as Beth sat motionless, her face deep in thought. "Say something, Beth! I'll understand if you're angry right now. I know it was dumb. It never happened again. I think that Chloe and I knew right after how wrong it was. We never mentioned it to anyone. I didn't think she even told Rachel, until Mikey told me that they had had a falling out over something. So, maybe she did."

"But, I'm confused. I thought back then you had the hots for Rachel? And yet you and Chloe…"

Steph exhaled slowly. "I did. Do you suppose me hooking up with Chloe was my way of…?"

Beth paused, clearing her throat. "It was before we met. Okay. I get that. It's not like I've told you about all my past lovers."

Steph couldn't suppress the giggle that erupted from her that caused Beth to blink. "Oh, my god, Beth! Past lovers? You? You were such a noob when you came out. You didn't know where to grab me until our third date!"

"Well, regardless… I'm not upset that you had other… _friends_. I'm just a bit ticked you never told me. Especially since it was, Chloe."

Steph reached across the table, taking hold of Beth's hand. "So, you forgive me?" she inquired, the glint of a twinkle in her eye.

"Damn it, Steph! Of course, I do. Only…"

"Only, what?"

"Well don't you think it's kind of, strange? That letter and photo showing up the day after my dream?"

Steph smiled briefly. The gnawing tenseness in the depths of her stomach hadn't eased from the moment she woke up. Something was wrong in Arcadia Bay. Something beyond the recent tragedies, beyond the local headlines, and something unresolved. She was sure Beth's dream had something to do with all of it. But what?

11-21-13

Like most days this one sped past as dictated by multiple appointments with health care personnel. Physical therapy came first, then medication management, finished with counseling. They would have been done by five o'clock except for an additional, last minute meeting with the gynecologist that extended their routine to six. Beth had no feeling in her legs below her knees, and was only aware that cramping occurred when the muscles in her thighs began to spasm. But from her thighs to her pelvic region she still had moderate nerve function. She was grateful for this, and having the ability to share with Steph that physical closeness when connected _there_ , but still hated the intrusion of having to be examined in _that_ area. Today was no exception, especially when the attending physician kept asking if she was still sexually active. Of course, she was, but what did it matter if she was or wasn't? There was more to her love for Steph, and vice versa, then the tingling moments of pleasure they felt when physically connected to one another.

By the day's end they were both exhausted. The physical requirement of simply going from one location to another had become a workout all its own. As much as wheel chair friendly facilities was a welcome sight to Beth and Steph, the frequency of such places was far less in and around Arcadia Bay than in larger towns and cities that had budgets for such considerations. As a result, in the absence of such aid, the two of them had begun to develop biceps that made many a passerby stop and blink, wondering if what they saw was real. Steph found such glances amusing and enjoyed the notion that she might be able to _lay_ _out_ someone with a _Chinese_ - _uppercut_. Beth found the strength necessary, for her needs, but disliked the masculine look it gave her. She always thought of herself as the more feminine one of them, despite having once towered over her tiny partner.

Because they had eaten a late breakfast and skipped lunch they powered through the afternoon on nutrition bars, pouches of trail mix and bottled water; eventually those ran out while waiting for the bus to take them home. At least the bus was equipped to handle Beth's physical needs; one of the few handicapped-friendly services provided by Arcadia Bay and for which they were thankful. After the accident they had been stripped of their means of transportation, unable to afford another car or the insurance; depending on a rental truck to eventually move them back from Sisters, they felt they had caught a small break upon discovering Arcadia Bay's transit system had implemented its current policy.

Though it was only a short distance from their last appointment to their cottage, the multiple stops along the way usually made the trip close to an hour long; it could be less, even half that if there were no pick ups or exits along the way, but this wasn't one of those times. So, they sat, munching on what crumbs were left of their snacks, trying to relax before having to exit, and make their way home.

They were almost to their stop when Steph felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She retrieved it by the second buzz and saw that it was a call from Mikey North. She scrolled through the messages quickly when Beth finally looked over, wondering why Steph had grown quiet.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"It's Mikey. He wants to know if we'd like to have pizza with him tonight.

Beth grinned. Pizza was her second favorite food. "Where? When!?"

Steph's fingers responded to the query as she replied to her wife. "Now. There's a new restaurant in town called the Dutch Oven; he's texting the directions. We'll have to stay on the bus till it heads back to town."

"Well, tell him, yes!"

The Dutch Oven was only a new establishment in the sense that a financial group out of Portland had recently bought the building and renovated it. Before that it had been a local dry-cleaning business. To Steph it didn't seem to matter since she could not recall her parents ever using the services of its previous owners. Beth remembered it; she and most of Blackwell's athletic students often frequented the establishment, as Letterman jackets and sweaters usually required special cleaning. But sitting in it, now, with Steph and Mikey, she hardly recognized the place.

Pizza was already on the table when Beth rolled herself under it as Steph slid into the booth across from her old friend and fellow gamer, Mikey. Both women quickly grabbed a slice and stuffed it into their mouths as Mikey grinned. "Slow down, or you'll have to make a Save versus choking," he chuckled. Steph giggled but kept gobbling her slice as Beth paused, then slowly continued. She got Mikey's joke, but never shared Steph's love of tabletop role playing games.

"Guess who called me today," Mikey continued. Steph raised her eyebrows but kept eating. "Rachel Amber's mom." Both women stopped chewing, shot a glance at one another then turned back to Mikey.

Mikey North hadn't filled out much since the days he and Steph spent before and after school, playing games. He had grown a few inches and stood taller than Steph, but he had remained sleek, and of a light build. Whether he had had any girlfriends in the two years she was away, Steph was not aware; but she could sense a tone of maturity in his voice and strength in his eyes that wasn't there before. When she and Beth returned to Arcadia Bay she had immediately contacted him; their friendship reigniting within moments of hearing each other's voice on the phone. But Beth's medical concerns had kept them from socializing with him, and she assumed that his own life, interests and job was also responsible. Which was why it seemed nice that today had afforded them the chance to meet up. But was it _chance_ , she wondered, after Mikey's last comment.

"Mrs. Amber?" Steph finally managed to respond after swallowing a lump of pizza dough before reaching for a glass of water.

"Uh huh. It was pretty…strange. She called me at the store; said she got the number from Chloe's mom."

Steph let out a slight sigh while Beth gently placed the unfinished portion of her pizza down on the metal plate. There had been so much they didn't know about Chloe, Rachel and Arcadia Bay and the past two years. At first the not knowing was to be expected, since they had moved away to begin their own lives; then, more for them to deal with regarding the accident, and its aftermath. But even when Mikey had called to tell her about Rachel, Steph never assumed the worse; girls had left Arcadia Bay routinely over the years. While many of their families worried and suspected foul play, there had never been evidence to support anything other than a young woman simply up and leaving her small home town in search of other, perhaps grander, things. Rachel was certainly the type to fall into that category from what Mikey had told her; the once darling of Blackwell Academy had become quite a rebel, ignoring the customs of modesty and respect, and known to associate with what some folks would call the improper, if not criminal, segment of the community. Still, Steph thought it odd that Mr. and Mrs. Amber would allow Arcadia officials to close the file on Rachel's disappearance without protest; to give up after only five months just didn't seem right, to her.

Chloe's death, on the other hand, had been too disturbing, given that she and Beth had only been back less than a week when it occurred. That Chloe had been accidently shot and killed by Nathan Prescott, of all people, only added more anxiety on top of the stress she and Beth were dealing with. And it was too much. She couldn't take on any more. She had to concentrate on Beth, and ignore any outside burden or feelings until they were stronger. Though she heard talk where ever they went about Nathan and his confessions, the arrest of Blackwell teacher Mark Jefferson, and the discovery of an unidentified body at American Rust, Steph had refused to look at the local paper, or listen to the radio, and made sure Beth did not see or hear anything either.

As she sat staring at Mikey, Steph was secretly glad that Beth's condition had demanded so much from her; focusing on her wife's needs allowed her to put off thinking about Chloe and Rachel, and everything else. At least it had, until Beth's dream and Mikey mentioning Rachel's and Chloe's moms. She blinked when she heard Beth's voice break the silence at the table.

"What did she want?"

"She said that she found some figurines in Rachel's room that may have been Chloe's."

"Figurines?"

"Game pieces," Steph responded before Mikey could. "I didn't know she got back into that. Mikey, did you hound her into playing again?"

"No. Well, maybe. Just once or twice. It wasn't a regular thing," he responded.

Now Steph was curious. "How did you do that?"

"It was kind of, her doing. There was a time when she just, started showing up at the store. She would hang around, like she had nowhere else to be."

"And Rachel wasn't with her?" Beth asked.

"No. That was the funny thing. Not— _ha_ - _ha_ funny, just…strange. They didn't seem to be hanging out so much. So, Chloe would stop by. I think she bought the figurines, around then."

Steph chuckled. "Let me guess—an elf barbarian?"

Mikey shook his head. "No. Female druid figures, in fact."

The three of them sat staring; their minds filling with thoughts and memories of Chloe, Rachel, and various personal events of the past six months. Slowly they returned to consuming the pizza before them, taking almost and hour and spent, mostly, in silence. Sporadically Mikey would reveal a bit of news, even gossip, to bring the two women up to date on the current goings-on, or inquire about their situation, but always such moments were separated by long periods of quiet.

When they realized they had each stopped eating for quite a while they looked about. The place was nearly empty and quiet, with the staff appearing to be performing actions indicating they were preparing to close the restaurant. Steph grabbed her wallet from her pocket and was about to with-draw some cash when Mikey shook his head at her. "I took care of it, Steph. Dinner was on me, all the way." Beth smiled and thanked him, but Steph wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, well. Let's do this again soon, but our treat!"

After leaving the restaurant the three of them lingered on the sidewalk outside. Beth and Steph dreaded getting back on the bus, but they had no choice but to wait until it returned. Mikey had taken a cab and had no car to offer them a lift home. As they waited for their transportation to arrive, their conversation returned to Chloe, Rachel, and the phone call Mikey had received.

"So, she just called, wondering if you'd be interested in them?" Steph inquired.

"Kind of. I do work at the only store that stocks those game pieces, you know. But, I don't know why she would think that."

At first, they weren't aware of the vehicle approaching them. It was just a car, driving as one would. But it slowed as it neared them, and when Steph took notice she thought it might be Mikey's cab. A shriek suddenly erupted from Beth as she covered her mouth. The car sped up and raced down the lane, turning at the next corner and out of sight. Steph bent down closer to her wife. "Beth! What's wrong?"

"It was him!" Beth managed to respond.

Steph and Mikey exchanged glances then turned back to Beth. "Him, who?" Mikey asked.

"It was the face in my dream. That driver… It was him! I know it!"

"Beth, are you sure? It's really dark out, and—"

"No! It was him. You were both standing, but from my angle I could see him, right through the passenger side window. And it was him!" Steph took hold of Beth's shoulders, trying to calm her.

Mikey stepped into the street, looking to make sure the vehicle was gone, then turned back towards his friends. "Maybe, I should see you home. Just to be safe?"

Steph shook her head. "It's okay, Mikey. We'll be fine. I got mace in my pocket, and a baseball bat at home. Besides, I don't think who ever was in that car has anything—"

"No! Steph," Beth interrupted. "It's him. I know it!"

"Okay, Beth. I believe you. But—" Suddenly the bus turned a corner and was in front of them before Steph could finish.

"Just, call me when you get home," Mikey requested.

"It'll probably be late, Mikey," Steph answered.

"That's okay. I need to know you got there safe and sound."

Twenty minutes later Beth was still shaking from the experience as they sat on the bus heading for home. Steph sat beside her on the bus seat, feeling helpless. "Beth… I…"

Beth's eyes were red and moist and she felt totally drained from what had just happened. "Steph, I know. It's difficult to believe, but… It _was_ him! I swear it. The guy in my dream."

"I believe you. I just… I don't know what it all means. And, that doesn't explain why you sounded like… Why you didn't sound like you, last night."

When they finally arrived home the air was cold and a coastal mist had flowed up the beach and onto their property. Beth sat waiting, nervously on the porch as Steph struggled to find the keyhole and unlock the door. Suddenly the door swung inward, startling them both. They couldn't see beyond the door frame, but they knew something wasn't right. The door had opened solely from the pressure Steph had exerted pressing the key into the hole. They looked at each other, unable to move, when, as if on cue, Steph's body tensed at the pulsating sensation of her phone against her hip.

There was no way they were going to get much sleep that night. After discovering the break-in, Steph immediately called the police department and, within minutes, a uniformed officer had arrived. But there was no visible evidence of who had done it; a search for fingerprints or any other clues such as hair or material fibers left behind would have to be conducted by skilled personnel. The officer wrote up as thorough a report as possible, but a quick scan of the premises had determined nothing was actually missing. When they declined his advice to sleep elsewhere, until the door lock could be repaired, all the officer could do was assure them that a patrol unit would be checking back from time to time during the night; with a strong recommendation that they barricade the door.

Only a few minutes had passed after the officer left when Mikey arrived. Shocked and out of breath, he was relieved to find his friends uninjured and, relatively, calm. As they sat listening to his explanation of why it had taken him so long to get there, Steph and Beth felt more and more tense.

From the moment he got into the cab to head home Mikey had wondered about the incident outside the restaurant; mostly on the claim Beth insisted was true. He sat motionless in the back seat as the driver guided the vehicle through Arcadia Bay's maze of streets in search of the address given. Then he saw the car again, up ahead. He wasn't sure at first, but as it pulled onto the street in front of the cab, he was. He seemed to recall it having a strange license plate, at the time, and thought it even more so as the two vehicles came to a halt at a red light, and he sat staring at it for quite a while.

A custom plate was not unusual in Arcadia Bay, but this one sent shivers through him as he realized exactly what was, _odd_ , about it. Then the light turned green, and he had only a moment to react. He quickly took out his phone and snapped a picture of the license plate as the vehicle disappeared into the darkness ahead of him. He was about to instruct the driver to follow the car, but told him to turn the cab around as he quickly punched keys on his phone, instead.

As if the break-in wasn't enough, Mikey's narrative had only increased their anxiety. What little chance they may have had to get some rest until morning was gone, as Steph and Beth sat listening. Though they were glad he insisted on staying with them the remainder of the night, none of them managed more than a thirty-minute cat nap until dawn. Most of the time they tried talking about other things; happy memories and moments of their past. Eventually, their conversation would always return to Beth's dream, the incident outside the restaurant, the break-in, and the strange license plate.

As the grey light of morning began to slowly pour over the coastal hills, pushing the dark further west and out to sea, the three of them sat quietly in the living room. Their eyelids felt heavy and at times drooped shut, only to snap open suddenly with every noise they heard. Periodically they would glance down at the phone laying on the coffee table, remembering the image on the photo that Mikey had managed to take; the license plate that read- CPMINE4EVER.

11-22-13

As shaken as they had all been by the events of the night they were no less so by the time morning arrived; the reality of now having to deal with the aftermath and carry on as life expected of them. Though he had wanted to stay and help, Mikey had his own obligations, his job, that could not be put aside. Reluctantly, he said goodbye, but only after Steph and Beth agreed to meet with him later in the day. And with Mikey gone, the two women went about their morning ritual of showering, getting dressed and breakfast before the locksmith appeared. After less than an hour later they had a new lock, new keys, and were a hundred dollars poorer.

Though they were never aware of it, a police unit had cruised frequently past their house during the night, as promised. Slowing to a crawl, it would shine a spotlight about the vicinity in search of anything out of place. As they made their way up the sidewalk to the street to wait for the next bus they were not surprised when they saw one pull next to the curb ahead of them. Inside was a driver, wearing a uniform, but also an older man wearing a suit. Beth assumed the latter was a detective, but Steph was sure she recognized the man. It was James Amber, the district attorney and father of Rachel.

"Who do you think that is?" Beth wondered aloud. She looked up at her wife, but Steph didn't offer a response. The two men exited the vehicle and walked towards them.

The ride through Arcadia Bay in the police cruiser was, unexpectedly, exciting as they sat in the back seat, wondering if convicts and suspects felt the same. When Mr. Amber had offered them a ride in order to discuss the matter of the break-in, they couldn't refuse, not after forking over so much of their cash to fix the front door. The uniformed officer drove steadily, his eyes on the road, as Mr. amber spoke over his shoulder to them, turning his head as far as the seatbelt would allow.

"When I saw your name on the report it seemed, familiar. You were at the hospital, two years ago when… when Rachel was attacked. My wife told me you visited her several times. I apologize if I didn't thank you, then. So much…"

Steph shifted in her seat, adjusting her shirt tail. "I was there. You don't need to…" She glanced at Beth, then back toward the man. "We just can't imagine how you and Mrs. Amber… If there's anything we can do—"

"Yes, well. Perhaps. But, right now, we've got to figure out who broke into your apartment. I'm going to send a team to do a thorough check, today. Will you be home, later?"

"Not for quite a while," Steph answered. "What if I give you my key? You can have your men leave it inside; we have another."

"That will work," the man responded. He seemed to pause, as if debating something in his mind, then continued. "Mrs. Amber would really enjoy seeing you. Do you suppose…the two of you, would like to drop by and visit her? Perhaps, tomorrow?"

Steph and Beth glanced at each other briefly, their eyes confirming a positive response before they turned back toward the man. "Yes, we'd love to," they answered in unison.

Steph was reclining in a lounge chair, staring at the business card Mr. Amber had given her; his home address had been written on the back. He had not said much more to them about the crime during the drive, seeming more interested in why they had left Arcadia Bay, and why they had decided to return. Steph and Beth offered only vague responses, feeling a bit uncomfortable divulging details of their past that didn't seem related to the break-in. After reaching the medical center and being dropped off, they were glad to be out of the cruiser and anxious to tend to their own business.

The air within the room was warm and humid as wisps of steam rose from the indoor pool in which Beth continued her physical therapy. As usual, her long blonde mane was pulled back in a pony tail while her wet bangs clung to her eyebrows as she floated within the water; aided by a vest and floatation ring, her long, slim legs bobbed up and down just beneath the surface as her toes stuck out above the water. Steph raised her eyes at the sound of Beth splashing and hollering something. "Uh, what? I'm sorry, I was thinking…" She looked over at the lanky figure floating in the water, her lips pressing tightly together at the sight of her wife in her skimpy bikini. She hated that suit, because it was little more than strings and three bits of cloth, but she loved it because it was just, strings and three bits of cloth.

"The water is warm. You should come in," Beth repeated, grinning.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Steph smirked. "You know I don't even own a bathing suit."

"How modest of My-lady," Beth chuckled.

"Shut up." Steph sighed heavily as a wave of contentment seemed to flow over her. Even with all that had happened, seemed to be happening, she never tired of gazing at her wife. Especially like now, the sight of her floating in the pool with her body stretched to its maximum height, reminded Steph of everything she desired in Beth. She always loved the looking up into her eyes as the taller woman smiled back, her head bent down; the stretching on tip toes and reaching under her wife's arms and around her back to embrace her; laying in bed together and the feel of Beth's legs stretching beyond the reach of her own toes as she rubbed them against Beth's calves.

Light reflecting off the water made her squint, snapping her back to reality as she looked across the pool and saw the therapist-assistant setting Beth gently into her chair. The aide was young, in her early twenties Steph guessed, and built like a brick fortress. She appeared slightly shorter than Beth, but was strong looking, sporting biceps and other muscles Steph couldn't even name.

It's a good thing she's ugly as a junkyard cat, Steph thought, grinning devilishly. If she was cute as a fox and had all that physique I might be jealous! What am I saying? No way Beth would think that a _walking_ - _muscle_ like her was attractive! Steph frowned for a moment, then saw Beth looking at her, the corners of her mouth turned slightly up.

Beth was glad it was Friday; nearly all of her appointments fell earlier in the week as many of her doctors ran only a four-day schedule. Once she was done in the pool there was just one session left, on the paddle machine—a device she had named the widow-maker, because it worked her thigh muscles to numbness. When that concluded, it was off to lunch and then they were done for the day.

As she sat in the cafeteria waiting for Steph to return with their food she tried not to think about her dream, the break-in at their place, or the photo Mikey had showed them. Instead, she sat motionless, here eyes closed, doing breathing exercises. She jumped suddenly when she felt a hand on her shoulder, but was relieved when her eyes opened to see Mikey beside her.

"Sorry, Beth. I didn't mean to scare you," he said quickly, seeing her response.

"Mikey! No, it's okay. Where's Steph?" she asked, looking around.

"Getting your lunch?"

"Of course. I just thought, she'd be back by now. So, how's business? The store doing good?" Beth wasn't one for small talk, but she didn't know Mikey as well as Steph did. She liked him, of course, because he and Steph had been friends over the years, and felt comfortable around him.

"It's okay. This is Arcadia Bay; nobody's doing good unless it benefits the Prescott family."

Beth nodded. "Things aren't going to stay the same, now that Nathan is in custody for Chloe's death."

"Nathan Prescott will have his father's legal team defending him. He'll likely be certified as a mental case, and get an insanity deal; then he'll end up at some lush and expensive mental hospital."

"That gets large donations from the Prescott estate," Beth added.

They hadn't spoken much about the shooting, Chloe, the trials of Nathan, or Mr. Jefferson in the presence of Steph, as she always made them change the subject; they understood why, since it was all still too fresh. But with just the two of them, there, they felt at ease enough to continue. Mikey cleared his throat before going on.

"Yeah. But, Mark Jefferson is definitely going to fry when his trial comes up."

"But, that won't be soon, will it?"

"Only if Mr. Prescott uses him as a scape goat to get Nathan off light. In which case, he might have to pay for his own defense. Otherwise, I don't think he'll see the inside of the courthouse until next year."

"Isn't there a…preliminary something or other?"

"They already had that. Remember? I called you and Steph…"

"Oh, that's right. I forgot."

A moment of silence provided Mikey the time to bring up the reason he had left the store and gone in search of the women; he usually just had lunch in the back room of the shop while a sign on the front door read, back in thirty-minutes. But after having spent an hour on the phone earlier that morning before opening the store, he had come into possession of information he was sure they would be interested in, and, want to know. After getting the text response from Steph that Beth was finishing her therapy, it was only a short trip to the medical center, and finding the cafeteria.

"And now, there's this break-in to deal with," he continued.

Beth blinked. "It seems, petty, in comparison with everything else that's happened. But, Mikey, it was so weird. Whoever it was, they didn't take anything! Why would they break in and not take anything?"

"That's odd, for sure. But, did you or Steph happen to see if this, perpetrator, _left_ anything?"

"What? No. But, the police might have. They did a search of the apartment today. I'm sure they'll come up with some fingerprints, at least."

Mikey shook his head slowly, in doubt. "I don't mean stuff like prints, or fibers, or even…fluids."

"Fluids? Yuck, don't even suggest that!"

"I'm just saying, I think this guy might have some, weird idea about..."

"Mikey, I know this is Arcadia Bay, but I'm sure the police will find any evidence left behind. Mr. Amber himself came by to see us this morning, to discuss the matter and—"

"Whoa, the D.A. himself? Why?"

Beth sighed. "I don't know, really. I think because he remembered Steph visiting Rachel a couple years back and…"

"I did some digging around this morning, and, I think you and Steph might be in danger."

Suddenly, Steph's voice came from behind them. "Danger? What danger? What are you two talking about?"

Beth and Mikey turned to see Steph stand a few feet away, a tray of food in her hands.

Through out their lunch Mikey explained his dire comment. "I have a friend—Shirley—works at the DMV and called her this morning to ask a favor; if she'd trace the registration of that license plate and find out who it belonged to. She agreed to—if I would take her out to dinner."

"When's your date?" Steph grinned.

"That's not funny," he replied. "But, next Wednesday. Anyway, she was able to track down who owned the plate. Are you ready for this?" He paused, waiting for them to nod before finishing. "Yeah. Well, seems it was ordered and bought back in 2012 by… You're not going to believe this—"

"Just get on with it!" the women blurted simultaneously.

"Okay, okay. It was bought by… Eliot Hampden."

Steph and Beth both stopped chewing on their food at the same time. The name was familiar enough to Steph, she had gone to school with Eliot since the third grade, but she never really had much to do with him; preferring to hang with the nerdy, game boys, instead. It was more-vague to Beth, who was a year older and a year ahead in school than her wife. Steph started chewing again when Beth finally spoke. "Didn't he get expelled from Blackwell a couple years back? Some sort of scandal? I thought I read something about that."

"Yeah, he did," Mikey responded. "But, he never moved out of Arcadia Bay, far as I know."

Steph put her fork down with more force than she had intended. "So, what's he doing? Is he like, stalking us or something?"

"I don't know, Steph. But do you think it's a coincidence that he happened to be driving by when we came out of the pizza place the other night?"

Beth shook her head before Steph could reply. "But what's he doing in my dream? Why would I conjure _him_ up?"

"Could he be connected to the break-in?" Steph added.

"I don't know," Mikey sighed. "But, I think it's worth finding out. Don't you?"

They didn't talk much, going home. Their conversation with Mikey over lunch had yielded no answers to explain, _why_ , about anything. By the time they returned to their apartment, changed into casual clothes and made themselves comfortable, the sun was slipping over the horizon as the darkness swooped down to embrace Arcadia Bay. They found an envelope with a key in it on the coffee table, and could smell the faint scent of chemical about the apartment. Steph went about turning on a light here and there, to make navigating easier for Beth. She had slipped into a pair of shorts, a tank top and knee socks and, for some reason, dug a beanie out of the closet and stretched it over her head. Beth was sitting near the window, but was not aware she was smiling, and staring at Steph's figure as the smaller woman stood on tip toes, reaching for a blanket on the top shelf of the closet.

"What-cha looking at?"

"Huh? Oh!" Beth's face flushed pink as she softly gasped.

Steph walked slowly over and, carefully, crawled onto Beth's lap, dangling her legs off the side. "You got something on your mind?" she said, teasingly.

It had been quite a while since Steph sat on her lap; perhaps not since Chloe's funeral. It was something they used to do often, in private, before usually leading up to something, _special_. Even sitting there, Beth had to look down to stare into Steph's eyes. "I'm up to it, if you are."

Steph grinned. "Definitely," she replied, stretching her neck upward as her lips pressed hard against Beth's.

They laid in each other's arms throughout the night, their bodies glistening from each other's heat. Their breathing in sync, they would respond to one another's caress, stroke for stroke, their lips pressed hard together. Regardless of her legs, Beth had always been the submissive one of the pair, allowing Steph to control their passion, direct it and urge it until they were both satisfied. And before morning, they were sound asleep, Steph's head nestled between Beth's breasts. A thick fog hung outside the window, and the soft slapping of the surf was dull and muffled in the mist.

"Help me."

Steph's eyes snapped open, her head feeling the vibration of Beth's voice on her cheek. She turned to look upward, but was barely able to see Beth's left eye. "Beth?"

"Not, Beth," the voice responded.

Steph's heart began pounding, her breath racing in short gulps. "Ra…Rachel? Are you, Rachel?"

"Yes."

Her throat felt tight, as if being squeezed, but she knew it wasn't. "Rachel… where are you? … Are you, alive?"

"Yes. Find me."

Steph's body trembled when, suddenly, the clock-radio on the nightstand beside the bed snapped on and she could hear music; a song that was vaguely familiar, that she just couldn't recall.

11-23-13

Steph was never able to go back to sleep and laid still throughout the early morning, allowing Beth to. The conversation in the night had actually frightened her, as she felt the voice sounded even more like Rachel than before. But, it wasn't possible…was it? Eventually, she could feel her partner's body moving and sat up to allow her wife to stretch. Quietly, she got off the bed and walked across the room, headed for the kitchen.

"What time is it?"

Steph stopped and turned, seeing Beth's open eyes. "Almost eleven. Ready to get up?" Beth nodded. "You were talking again in your sleep," Steph added.

"I was? Was it—me, or…?"

"Let's get dressed. I want to get out of here. We'll grab a bite on the way to…"

"To the Ambers?" Beth finished for Steph.

"He asked us to come."

"Should we tell him about my…?"

Steph slowly let out a breath, not knowing how to answer.

By the time they reached the Amber house it was nearing one in the afternoon. Pausing on the sidewalk to catch their breath, they regretted grabbing just a light snack along the way; both were getting that empty-stomach feeling, when gurgling and rumbling sounds are about to emerge at the worst moment. But neither of them used a purse, preferring wallets for their cash and personal papers. All that they had between them to consume was some breath mints; but they ate them. And after struggling to get Beth and her chair up the short flight of steps to the front door, Steph finally pressed the buzzer and they waited, taking in gulps of air until the door opened, and the smiling personage of Mrs. Amber appeared.

"I hope you two haven't had lunch yet. I've been waiting for you."

Rose Amber was as gracious and gentle as Steph remembered. After escorting them into the parlor and getting them settled, the woman seemed to zip about the kitchen, gathering up things all the while talking so they didn't feel alone as they sat waiting. Steph wondered why Mr. Amber was not present, but Rose explained that as she carried trays of sandwiches into the room, setting them on the table. Being the D.A. did not guarantee his weekends to be free. Steph and Beth eyed the sandwiches on the platters in front of them when Mrs. Amber returned from the kitchen with their drinks.

"Here we are," she said, handing them each a glass. "Please, don't wait for James. Go ahead and eat. I hope you like tuna salad. If not, I can—"

"Thank you," Beth blurted as she grabbed a portion and guided it to her mouth. Steph's eyebrows dipped at the space above her nose as she gave her partner, _that_ look, but it was ignored as Beth attacked the morsel as delicately as she could.

"Thank you, Mrs. Amber. Yes, we love tuna salad," Steph answered, turning back toward the woman.

"It's so nice seeing you again, Steph. And meeting you, Beth. I'm sorry we haven't had the chance to run into each other sooner." The woman's voice cracked slightly.

"Well, we've only been back a month," Beth replied, swallowing quickly.

"Just a month? Funny, how time just drags along when one is young, and races ahead when you get older."

"Yes, isn't it," Steph responded, sensing a change in the woman's posture.

Beth seemed to have little trouble gobbling down bite after bite of the tuna sandwiches, but Steph felt a tense knot in her stomach, and each time she swallowed it felt as if she were forcing a rope down her throat. She had not seen Mrs. Amber since the incident, two years ago, and suddenly felt, uneasy. Drew's broken knee, and Rachel being stabbed, both caused by that psycho—Damon Merrick—seemed surreal to her, now, as she sat looking at Rachel's mother. In fact, that whole spring two years ago was, strange, as Arcadia Bay suffered one of the worse wild fires on record, and they never found out who had started it. Perhaps they never would. When Steph blinked, her mind returned to the present and the sound of Beth's voice, light and cheerful, speaking to Mrs. Amber.

"Oh, I knew I loved her from the moment I saw her. But, things being the way they were—are—with my family, we really didn't have a lot of time to prepare for what we were going to do." Beth saw Steph looking at her and reached over and took hold of her hand.

"I'm so sorry," replied Mrs. Amber. "So, they were very much against you from the beginning?"

"Very much. Still are. But, we've gotten to the point, me and Steph, after all we've been through, we don't need anyone else. We're fine, just the way we are."

Mrs. Amber smiled. "I'm glad that you have each other. I just wish that, Rachel and…"

The three of them sat silently for a moment, a multitude of thoughts and feelings rushing through each. Finally, the sound of the front door opening ended the quiet, followed by the figure of Mr. Amber, as he walked toward them. Mrs. Amber stood as he came to a stop beside her, and the two embraced.

"James, the girls and I have had a wonderful time chatting," she said, as he looked over, nodding at the young women.

"I'm so glad you came by," he replied, letting go of his wife and taking a seat in the large chair across from the young women. "I want to talk to you about… Well, the break-in at your place for one thing."

"You know who it was?" Steph inquired.

"A pretty good lead, though nothing conclusive," he continued. "But a video camera on the corner of your block, next to the bus stop, caught something that interests me."

"I didn't know Arcadia Bay had such things," Beth responded.

"We do. What's interesting is that, the clock in the recording clearly indicates it happened in the evening before you returned home."

"It shows a person?" Steph asked.

"No. A vehicle. It has one of those customized license plates, with a very strange set of—" The man stopped short as he heard the two girls gasp in unison. "Does that mean something to you?" When they didn't respond he continued. "We ran a check on the license plate, and it appears that it's registered to one—Eliot Hampden. I just spent the morning trying to track him down, but he wasn't at home. It might not mean anything. He's a local boy, went to Blackwell Academy for a while but, well, he got into some trouble and was expelled. I had some trouble with him myself, it seems; a couple of years ago. But, anyway. Do either of you know him?"

Beth shook her head. She only knew what Steph and Mikey had told her about him. But Steph's mind was racing, wondering why he would do such a thing, and trying to remember the last time she had seen or talked to him.

It was that day in the hospital two years ago. Steph had gone to visit Mikey and Drew; later, when she went to leave she saw Eliot and Chloe, talking in the corridor. She couldn't hear their conversation but sensed that whatever it was about was clearly upsetting Chloe, who suddenly walked away, leaving him standing there. He didn't see Steph, he seemed too upset to notice. But she heard him, mumbling to himself, something about how he would make Chloe understand. That Chloe just needed to see the truth.

"Steph, are you okay? You look as white as a ghost."

Her eyes focused as she realized she had been deep in thought, and Beth's voice brought her back to the present.

"Eliot… Hampden?"

11-24-13

"He's going mad! Please! Help!"

It was the only thing Beth said in her sleep during the night. The remainder was spent in quiet, the two of them entwined as Steph draped a leg around Beth's hips as she unconsciously stroked her partner's arm with her palm. Their foreheads pressed together, their noses touching, until a puff of breath by one caused the other to twitch, as the soft flesh of lips went searching for those of the one that exhaled. It was a routine they performed most nights, repeated from the moment they reached their deep sleep, to the moment their eyes slowly opened and gazed into each other's. And in the morning, when they awoke, their bond continued as if it had never been interrupted by the night.

As they lay in bed, the dim light of the morning sun barely driving out the dark, they held hands, their fingers entwined, and breathed slowly, staring at each other. They knew fairly certain what was going through the other's mind.

They had gone to the Amber's house the previous day hoping to learn what had happened to Rachel, among other things. But their visit had yielded them little more information than they already knew. Mr. Amber offered nothing more than what he told them about the identity of the owner of the vehicle seen in the vicinity of their cottage on the night of the break-in. They were sure he was withholding more than he told them but were unable to extract what it might be. With lunch concluded they had no other reason to stay and, thus, departed. Steph was quite surprised when both Mr. and Mrs. Amber hugged her before saying their goodbyes. She was also somewhat startled when a man suddenly appeared and passed them on the street, turning and heading up the sidewalk toward the Amber house. She looked behind her and saw Mr. Amber give the man a wave, as if he were expecting him. Odder still was that Steph felt there was something familiar about the man, that she might have encountered him sometime in the past. She shrugged, then realized she had stopped moving and began pushing immediately hearing Beth's humming. "Oh, sorry."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just, that guy… Never mind."

They had reached the bus stop when Beth tugged on Steph's sleeve. "Would you mind if…?"

"What?" Steph responded, curiously.

"I know it's not cheap and, we already spent a lot on the new door lock, but, could we call an Uber? I'd like to go somewhere… The bus doesn't really get us close enough."

Steph knew it was important, or Beth wouldn't have asked. Not long after the call, the Uber driver arrived and between him and Steph, managed to get Beth into the car and her chair into the trunk; when Steph slid in beside her Beth instructed the driver where to take them, and by four o'clock they had been deposited at the foot of the trail leading up to the lighthouse on the point. The grade was steep, even for the able bodied, but pushing Beth up the path to the summit took all the strength Steph could summon. When they reached the trail's end she guided Beth next to the bench overlooking the bay and stopped, then plunked down onto the wooden slats, exhausted.

They sat a while, staring out toward the horizon and the setting sun; yellow tendrils of light skimmed across the surface of the water toward the land below them. When she had felt her strength begin to return, along with her breath, Steph looked over at Beth, and softly gasped as she saw thin trails where tears had recently trickled down her wife's cheeks. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Steph…"

"What? What is it?"

Beth turned, facing the woman she had vowed to spend her life with. The woman that satisfied all her wants and needs. The woman that completed her…almost. "Steph… I want a baby."

Steph sighed. They had discussed having a child, but it was before the accident. Before Beth had lost the use of her legs. It wasn't that they physically couldn't have one, either of them, but the fact that Beth would not be able to keep up with a toddler once it learned to walk. And then there were all of Beth's treatments that had to be maintained and dragging an infant along would only make things more difficult. "I love you, but I don't think you should be considering that right now."

"Me?" Beth grinned. "With my skinny hips? I was thinking maybe…you?"

"Now, wait a minute!"

"Steph, please. You'll make a great mom. It's just… I feel like, it's the only thing we're missing."

"You feel we're missing something?" Steph replied, smirking.

"No! Not in that way. But, a baby, that would be something else for us to share…together. Don't you see?"

"Hmmmm. I don't know."

"And with your wide hips we could maybe get a nine pounder," Beth giggled.

"Don't even suggest that!"

"All we really need is to find a contributor to help us out."

"Oh, well if that's all we need why don't I just ask Mikey to—"

"No! Not him. I mean, he's a friend. That would be too…weird."

Steph jerked her head back at Beth's sudden response. There was something in her partner's tone that just didn't sound, right, and she was about to find out what when she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. "Hang on, got a call. Its' probably Mikey." Retrieving the device, she clicked it on and began to read the messages when her face suddenly turned pale.

"What is it? Who is… Is it Mikey? Steph?"

"No. Not Mikey. It's from… Nathan Prescott."

"Nathan—! Isn't he locked up in the mental hospital? How did he get your number?"

"I don't know. Should I answer it?"

"No. Let's go. It's getting dark. Steph, let's go, I want to get out of here."

Steph blinked. The sun was almost over the horizon and darkness was approaching quickly. She knew they had to get back down the trail as fast and safely as possible before it got too dark to see at all. She handed Beth the phone and told her to call for an Uber and hurriedly ran behind the chair and began pushing her wife toward the trail. By the time they reached the bottom the sun was gone as stars began appearing in the dark velvet sky overhead. All they had to do, was wait for their ride.

The room was getting warmer as the morning light continued to pour through the window. Steph lay snuggled up against Beth, almost draped across her yet able to see her eyes easily. They made no effort to leave the bed; after hours of absorbing the warmth of their bodies the mattress was now providing them with a toasty embrace that they did not want to relinquish. Instead, they remained beneath the covers as their minds retraced the events of yesterday. A baby! thought Steph. Why would she bring that up, now? She looked back at her wife, "What?"

"I said, I know that look. You're wondering about last night; why I brought up, a baby."

Steph was about to reply when the radio clock on the table beside them snapped on suddenly. The sound of a man's voice blared out of the speaker, a local newscaster. What they heard made their jaws drop and was, apparently, the end of a special news bulletin. Staring at the radio they listened as he concluded the announcement.

I repeat, Nathan Prescott, son of Sean Prescott and heir to the Prescott fortune, has been found dead in his room at Bay-Cott Medical facility; apparently caused from self-inflicted wounds to his wrists. We will report more news when it becomes available. The Prescott family has issued no statement and wishes to be left alone until all the details are determined. We return you now to your regularly scheduled program.

They had both sat up when the announcer's voice broke the quiet of their room. When the report ended and music began playing Steph reached over and slapped the off button just as she realized what song was playing, and who was playing it. it was Piss Head, and one of its members was the former security guard at Blackwell Academy; he was also the same man that she had seen walking past them yesterday, and up to the Amber house! "Steph?" Beth's voice snapped her back into the moment. "What?"

"That call, from Nathan last night. Maybe we should listen to it?"

"It was a text, but, yeah," she responded, and reached over and picked up her phone. Opening it, they waited a second for the window to appear, then began reading.

Hello, Steph? Stephanie Gingrich? It's me—Nathan Prescott. I can't talk, someone might hear, so if you're reading this, please know, I never hurt Rachel. It was him, Jefferson. He drugged her. I only drove her out to the junkyard, as she asked. She said it was her special place, her and… But she was alive! At least, she was until…we got there. I think he overdosed her, that bastard. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't let my family know all about… I'm so sorry. Then he showed up, out of nowhere. I thought, what the hell? But, he got me to calm down, told me he'd take care of things…keep my name out of it and stuff. A real persuasive guy. So, I just left… left her with him and got the hell out of there. Please, believe me, I am so, so sorry. I never meant to shoot Chloe. The gun, it just, went off! I didn't mean to… Now he's coming around, asking me questions. Wondering, did I say anything to the cops. The guy is weird, babbles on about Chloe, and Rachel. I think he's nuts. He won't stay away. I'm really scared. Samantha slipped me this phone during a visit, but they'll find it soon, I'm sure. Please, Stephanie, help me. Contact the D.A. and let him know that—

Steph and Beth stared at the text until, finally, Steph turned it off. The news report didn't state when Nathan died, unless that was mentioned at the beginning. It could have been last night, after he had contacted them, or earlier this morning. Either way, they both sat there, stunned. Steph was about to get out of bed when the phone buzzed. It was Mikey, a voice call. "Hi," Steph responded, her tone a bit shaky.

"Did you hear the radio, today?"

"Yes, well, some of it. Geez, Mikey. What's happening around here?"

"I don't know. I think I should come over, though. What do you think?"

"Yeah. That sounds good. Give us an hour though, to get up and dressed."

"Steph, there's something else…"

She was about to ask _what_ when a tap on the door startled her and Beth both. She handed her partner the phone and moved to answer the knock.

When she peeked out the spy-hole Steph gasped, recognizing the figure standing on the other side. It was the former security guard from Blackwell, and member of the band whose song had just played on the radio. I know him, she thought. But, I can't recall his name; was it Slim, something? Slowly, she unlocked the door and opened it slightly. "Hello?"

"Uh, hi. Are you Steph Gingrich?"

"Who's asking?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm Skip Matthews. I don't know if you remember me, but I used to work at Blackwell Academy."

"I remember you," she replied, opening the door halfway. "What do you want?"

"Please don't be angry, but I just had to see you. After we passed each other yesterday I realized that you were once a student there, and… Well, it's been a long time since I've been back here and I just thought, it might be nice to see if any of the kids were still around."

"So, what brings you back? Why were you…" She stopped before actually asking him his business. And it had to have been about business, why else would a former security guard pay a visit to the D.A. at his private residence? The man appeared tired, sighing heavily as he combed his fingers through his hair.

"I…I can't go into that too much. There's something important happening and, well, I was asked not to. I just came here, because, Nathan Prescott."

"What about—Nathan Prescott?"

"He was a troubled kid. Always was. I used to chat with him at school quite often. When I was out on the road with my band—you do know I'm a member of Piss Head, right? Well, I never really knew what was going on back here. But Nathan, he frequently called me, to talk. I had a soft spot for the guy. He was so insecure, he just didn't know how to act with people. Anyway, after he got involved with drugs, and the shooting thing with Chloe, I knew I had to come back."

"Why? What does any of that have to do with you?"

"Like I said, I can't get into real details. But, during one of his calls he really unloaded a bunch of stuff about what was going on. You know, the Jefferson thing with all those girls he photographed? And now he's gone and… Did you hear the news? he's dead."

Steph nodded. "Yes. We heard, and—We couldn't believe it."

"Yeah, well. So, the thing is, I had to come back and let the D.A. know what he'd told me. So, I did. I figured, since I was here I might as well see if any of you kids were still around. I guess I had a nostalgia attack, or something," he chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, I don't miss Blackwell. Never did. That place sucked a bag of big ones!"

Steph laughed, remembering how many times she had heard Chloe say the same thing. "So, are you staying in Arcadia Bay, long?"

"Well as to that, I don't know. I was asked if I could hang around a while. So, we'll see. Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and say, hi. So, _hi_. I'll let you get back to your business." The man turned and began to leave when Steph replied. "Maybe, if you're still here in a few days, you'd like to have pizza with us at the Dutch Oven?"

"Pizza? I never turn down an offer for pizza," he said, looking back. "I'm staying with Dave and Joyce Madsen, you know them? You can reach me there."

Steph gulped. Arcadia Bay had always been a small world. But this was ridiculous! "Madsen? Yes. I know them. We'll give you a call."

"Fine enough. See you later, gal."

An hour later Steph and Beth were dressed and sitting at the small table in the kitchen. Mikey had arrived and joined them as they attempted to eat some hastily assembled sandwiches. Both Beth and Mikey were shocked when Steph told them of her conversation with Skip Matthews. Each remembered him from those years at Blackwell, each with their own fondness or disinterest, depending on how he had interacted with them. But one thing for certain that they shared was their curiosity as to why he had returned to Arcadia Bay. They didn't buy the story that it was just about Nathan and how he felt sorry for the guy. There was something that Skip withheld, something more important. And it was something they wanted to find out.

But whatever it was it was going to have to wait. Having no connection to the situation they were certain that they would learn everything when everyone else did. They were just citizens of Arcadia Bay, after all, part of the public, not involved in the details as they say. So, before Mikey arrived, Steph and Beth had agreed to something serious, something big in their lives. But they also agreed they wanted more information. Which meant they were going to search for a fertility clinic.

11-25-13

As soon as they awoke the next day Steph and Beth got up and dressed quicker than usual. Steph was making a simple breakfast as Beth made calls to cancel her appointments for the day. They had located a fertility clinic in Salem that sounded ideal for them and needed to clear their schedule in order to make the trip to check it out. Steph was setting their food on the table when her phone rang. "It's Mikey," she spoke aloud as she checked the device. "What's up?" she asked, pressing the device to her ear with her shoulder as she scooped scrambled eggs out of the bowl onto her and Beth's plates.

"Have you heard?" he inquired.

Steph chuckled. "What now?"

"Seriously, Steph. You haven't heard? You need to be sitting down."

Steph lowered herself onto the chair, grabbing the phone with her hand as Beth stared across the table. "Okay. I'm sitting. Now what's going on?"

"Put him on speaker," Beth requested.

Steph nodded her head. "Mikey, I'm putting you on speaker so Beth can hear. Okay, now go on."

They sat, hardly moving as Mikey frantically relayed to them the news he had just heard over the radio.

Acting on information provided by an anonymous source, Arcadia Bay police closed in on the home of Eliot Hampden earlier this morning. After forcing their way in they found the main floor empty. Upon searching the cellar, they discovered the young man dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. More shocking was the discovery of Rachel Amber in a nearby room; missing since April. While some believed her disappearance tied to Mark Jefferson, according to the anonymous source, she had been drugged by the former Blackwell teacher, for his lewd photographic hobby, and then driven to a remote location where she was dumped. Only, it seems, to be discovered by Eliot Hampden, who abducted her for his own reasons. According to the police, he kept her prisoner in his cellar, as part of some psychotic revenge plot of his own design. This theory seems to be confirmed by the anonymous source, but a full investigation is pending. Authorities believe he shot her, then himself, when he felt they were about to close in on him. Rachel was rushed via ambulance to the closest emergency facility where doctors were able to stabilize her body functions. While expected to recover, doctors believe the damaged portion of her brain might result in some degree of memory loss.

When he was finished, Steph and Beth stared at each other, their hands shaking, their minds racing with thoughts and images and unable to process it all. Eliot? The dreams? Rachel? Alive? Was it possible?

3-11-14

Steph and Beth were sitting, wishing it was Spring but dressed in multi-layers of clothing as the hospital corridor seemed as cold as the outside. Despite the weather, they visited Rachel as often as they could; though never really getting to, since her recovery process was strictly controlled. But they would sit, anyway, outside her room and talk with Mr. and Mrs. Amber as the couple took turns going in to sit with their daughter.

Rose Amber always took the time to sit with them, letting them know how Rachel was doing. Always keeping up their spirits though it was obvious the strain the woman was under. She would often bring them little gifts, or snacks, and started treating them as if they were her own girls. She was always asking them about their lives, what they were doing, how they were getting along. She seemed to have a kind of _sense_ about them. As if she knew things they hadn't revealed to her. Like the time she made the comment that Steph had a glow about her, like a woman with a special secret. Beth's eyes popped wide, matching her grin as she informed the woman of Steph's condition. Rose was elated to learn of the pregnancy, though both of them had a strange feeling that the woman, somehow, already knew.

Mr. Amber was always cordial. But as the months passed he seemed to age in front of their eyes. He became sadder and they couldn't understand why. Until one day, they asked. He told them, it was Rachel's memory. As the doctors had predicted, there was a great deal of her past she could not recall. For much of it he was glad; the business with Mark Jefferson and Eliot was something he wished had never happened. Now, it was as if it hadn't. Rachel couldn't remember. What made him sad, he had told them, was her inability to remember anything about Chloe. Rachel had always been full of life, full of desire and Chloe inspired her even more. But that desire, that cockiness and devil-may-care glint in Rachel's eyes wasn't there, anymore. When Steph suggested that he tell Rachel about Chloe Mr. Amber shook his head. "Tell her what? That Chloe is dead? That the person she wanted to conquer the world with is gone? A person she doesn't even remember?"

As sad as it was to admit, Steph could understand his point. And in the end, that was what made it easier when she was finally allowed to see Rachel, in person. She agreed not to mention Chloe, or anything she knew about her and Rachel's _adventures_. Which was fine, by her. Finally getting to see Rachel was what she had been waiting for, these past three-plus months.

Mr. Amber exited Rachel's room nodding at Steph for her to go in. She lunged through the door not hearing Beth's voice. "Tell Rachel, hi."

When she stepped into the room Steph could see Rachel clearly on the bed. Her head was wrapped with a bandage that looked like a cap; she suspected that Rachel's, once, gorgeous hair had been cropped away for the multiple surgeries she had to endure over the course of her stay. But that didn't take anything away from Rachel's beauty at all. She was a little pale, and Steph could see that some-one, perhaps Rose or a nurse, had attempted to apply a bit of makeup to her face. As she walked toward her, Rachel looked up and smiled. "Oh. Hey. Don't I know you?"

Steph grinned. "Yeah. I'm probably the one your parents have been telling you about. The one that's been sitting out in the hall waiting to see you."

"Of course. Steph? You're Steph. And we went to school together, didn't we?"

"Here, maybe this will help," Steph replied. She reached into her back pocket, retrieving the signature beanie she had worn so often back then and pulled it onto her head. "How's that?"

Rachel smiled, and her eyes sparkled. "Steph! Yes. Much better. I seem to recall, you liked… You still play that board game? I used to see you between classes over on a picnic table playing with someone."

"Haven't played much lately. You know how life is-weird. We moved away for a while. We only came back last fall."

"We?"

Steph smiled. "My…wife and I."

"Oh. Your, wife. Hmmm. Well, that's awesome."

"It's better than awesome," Steph grinned, rubbing her lower abdomen. "Beth and I decided, we wanted to get our family started. So, guess what?"

"Oh, Steph! That's terrific. Do you know? Is it going to be a boy or a girl?"

"We know," she replied nodding. "A girl."

"I'm so happy for you, both. Did you pick out a name yet?"

"We're waffling over a couple."

"How about…Chloe? I don't know why, but for some reason, I think that would be perfect. Don't you?"

Steph's eyes filled with water until they overflowed, trickling down her cheeks and onto the floor. "Yes. I think it is."

 _fine_

31


End file.
